One of the questions I've been frequently asked in my blogging career is: 'Are you really Dutch?' Now I have no idea why I'd lie about that. I'm about as Dutch as they get, but you don't want to know how often I've had to explain that no, my country didn't start World War II; I'm Dutch, not German. And no, I'm not Scandinavian; Denmark is a different place alltogether. Most of the time a mention of my home country of the Netherlands is met with question marks. People in general know very little about this place. We fly under the radar most of the time and I'm not ashamed to admit that that makes me a little sad every now and then. After all, we have a lot of awesome things that make us so unique. Those things are all things I'd love to share with you. Inspired by Steph's 10 Things I Wish You Knew about South Africa, I present you: 10 Things I Wish You Knew about the Netherlands!

More than half of the Netherlands is below sea level. My hometown is approximately 2 meters below sea level and that's nothing special in the western provinces. Centuries ago the place was a swamp. My people built dams, pumped the water out and created land this way. If our dams break, more than half of the country will be flooded. Luckily we're the absolute masters of building dams.
Still not impressed? What if I told you our twelfth province, Flevoland, isn't even a century old? We built Flevoland from scratch by getting rid of the Zuiderzee, our inland sea. Pretty damn impressive, don't you think?

I have to be honest with you: when I say that half of my country shouldn't be here, I do not take the Caribbean islands into account. Aruba, Saba, Sint Maarten and Curaçao are a few of them. They're remnants of the colonial age and their place within the country has changed significantly since then. Some are now Dutch counties, others have become semi-independent. It's a bit of a weird situation, since most people in the provinces are barely aware of the fact that these islands are part of the country, while people on the islands don't always identify as Dutch. Either way, on paper it's all the same country, so if you go to Curaçao you can say you've visited the Kingdom of the Netherlands!

Yes, our official name is the Kingdom of the Netherlands. We have a king, queen and a whole bunch of princes and princesses. Call us old-fashioned, but it's worked for us for centuries. You see, our king doesn't have all that much to say. We've been a constitutional monarchy for well over a century, which means we used the constitution to limit the king's power and make sure the Dutch people would live in a democracy. In fact, we limited the king's influence so far that I wouldn't be able to name one of his official tasks if my life depended on it. Except for visiting a random Dutch city on King's Day and giving a Christmas speech, but I don't think that counts. So basically we're a democracy hanging on to the traditions that come with being a kingdom.

... and depending on your location, also English and Papiemento. Those last two are only official languages on the islands, Frysian only in the northern province of Friesland. Dutch is official everywhere, of course. And even though my country is minuscule, we have loads of dialects and heaps of accents. Most westerners can't make sense of the southern dialects, whereas we use a ton of expressions southerners have never even heard of. It's an amazing situation for someone who loves languages as much as I do.

If you can't ride a bike, are you even Dutch? Seriously, we learn to ride a bike at such a young age that the bike basically becomes an extension of our body. Our cities are filled with brave and reckless cyclists who will not hesitate to take right of way, even when they shouldn't be taking right of way. We own the roads. Remember this and you'll be safe in the Netherlands: never mess with the cyclists!


Sure fire way to tell if you're in the southern provinces of the Netherlands: if there are random chapels and Jesus statues by the side of the road and at crossroads, you're in the south. The southern provinces are Catholic, the northern provinces like protestantism better. And when it comes to other religions we can be assholes, especially when we talk about Islam. We are completely fine with shutting an entire town of from the outside world because you can't repair its bridge on a Sunday, but hijabs send our religious nutcases into hysterics. It's a sad situation for atheists and agnostics like me.

Now this one doesn't apply to me personally, but Dutch people are known for being down-to-earth. We're not easily spooked, brush weird things off and think logically. 'Act normal, that's already crazy enough' is an expression we use that perfectly represents the Dutch down-to-earth mindset. It makes us valuable in crisis situations and, in my opinion, completely boring when it comes to haunted places and urban legends: we have none.

That down-to-earth mindset I mentioned? Yeah, you can throw that right out of the window as soon as the Dutch football team goes to a big international tournament. Okay, I know the team has sucked so bad since 2014 that we didn't even make it to the 2018 World Cup, but if we make it to the next tournament, the Dutch will collectively lose their mind. Entire streets turn orange, our national color. Trees get more decoration thrown on them than the average Christmas tree. Flags will be everywhere, the regular ones and the tiny party flags in red, white and blue are strung from house to house. Supermarkets hand out mascots in red, white, blue and orange. Football is the only possible topic of conversation. This insanity lasts as long as our team is competing. A week after they're out, it's like none of this ever happened and everyone goes back to acting normally, because that's already crazy enough.

Now that we're on the topic of football: football supporters from Amsterdam and Rotterdam hate each other and the other city so bad that it's seeped through into other aspects of life as well. This goes so far that grown men from the Rotterdam area refuse to say 'the A-word' and call our capital '020', its area code, instead. And even though I support a southern club, I do enjoy the discussion on which city is better. Of course Rotterdam has a better university, has better street art and is more important for our economy. I'm biased though: I'm from the Rotterdam area, what did you expect me to say?

Yeah, we make some pretty cool things here. Not just wifi, oh no. Gouda cheese? Dutch. Hagelslag, chocolate sprinkles to put on your bread are Dutch of course. We were the first to legalize gay marriage. We're pretty good at introducing the world to good things. And we make the things you love even better. You like art? Have a look at the Dutch masters. Best DJs in the world? Man, that list would be nothing without the Dutch. Melisandre and Daario Naharis from Game of Thrones? Dutch actors. You're welcome ;)

So you see, we might be small (though we're literally the tallest people in the world), but we're pretty awesome. I haven't even told you about all our amazing cookies yet, but I don't want to overwhelm you with our general amazingness. I hope you'll get to visit the land that shouldn't actually be there. If you do, let me know. I'll be more than happy to give you a local tour of awesomeness.

It happened on an almost daily basis when I was an overexcited four-year-old. I'd run into the house, yelling: 'Dad, dad, I need my bike! Can you get it out of the shed?'
My dad would look up from his book and ask: 'Which one do you want?'
It was one of the toughest questions I had to answer as a kid: which bicycle would I take for a ride today? There was the tiny purple one that went really fast, or I could go for the black one covered with 101 Dalmatians stickers. The rusty one was also an option, just like the mountain bike and the pretty white one my grandparents had bought me. And I still had my tricycle, but that was for babies.
In the end I always chose the tiny purple bike, because it was so light and fast. My dad would take it out of the shed and soon I'd be off to join the bicycle races I held with the other kids from my block.

Growing up in the Netherlands, I never realized that it's a bit odd to have five bicycles when you're four years old. Every kid from my street had at least one bike and if you still had your training wheels on at age five, you were a total loser. The faster and better you could ride your bike, the more popular you were. I think I was 10 when I noticed that the bicycle culture is a typically Dutch thing. In a country of 17 million, we have 20 million bicycles. It's part of who we are, just like cheese and tulips. My bike is my bae, I don't feel complete without it. Because here in the Netherlands we get put on a bike almost the minute we are born and stay on it till the day we die.

Meet my loyal friend: my bike

At age two we get our first tricycle or a miniature bike with training wheels. Bikes define your status in those early years and the competition is fierce. Everyone wants to have the fastest, prettiest and biggest bike. If there's and image of a clown or a lion on your bike, you're basically the king or queen of the playground and when it comes to wheels, size does matter.
About a year later the training wheels come off. Every three- and four-year-old will be practicing as much as they can, because they all want to be the first to win a bicycle race without the training wheels. Let me tell you, it's not easy to get rid of those things. I was three, almost four when my parents decided it was time for me to become a big girl. My dad took the training wheels of my tiny purple bike and said he'd catch me if I fell. We started out easy: my dad held the bike straight as he walked behind me, while I was busy trying to cycle and not fall over at the same time. Suddenly my dad picked up the pace and started to push me. Faster and faster we went. I loved it - until my dad said he'd let go of the bike. I looked over my shoulder and saw I was cycling on my own. 'Look ahead, Envy! Go go go!' my dad cheered me on. For half a minute everything was amazing. Then I reached the curve at the end of our street; I panicked and fell over.
At the end of the week I could ride without training wheels. I was queen of my street for about two weeks, until the other kids mastered the skill too.
After this one big step we Dutch kiddies go everywhere by bike. We go to kindergarten, the supermarket and grandma's house by bike- of course with our parents on their bikes right next to us in case we fall.

The mindset of most cyclists here

A couple of years later, around the time we learn to read and write, the first kids show up at school on their bike, but without a parent. That's when everyone starts begging their parents to let them cycle to school all by themselves. And when your parents finally give in, you once again feel like a queen - queen of the world this time. Especially when you cycle past all the kids who still have to cycle to school with their parents. They see you rollin', the hatin': elementary school cycling in a nutshell.

For a couple of years nothing changes. Then, at 15 at the very latest, the Dutch change their attitude and become fearless daredevils as soon as they get on their bike. You're not a real Dutchy if you haven't avoided a major accident by mere seconds - without wearing a helmet of course.
That's how almost 100% of our population grows up on a bike. And once they're all grown up, you don't want to be an unsuspecting driver. We cyclists don't stop for anyone or anything! The road belongs to us!

Stay Awesome!

It was a trend, some four, five years ago: forecasting the 'horror winter'. Each winter the weathermen were certain it'd happen, yet this year it remained awfully quiet in the matter. Yet still I think the trend might make it's return today on the six o'clock news: yesterday it started freezing and the temperatures haven't climbed above the zero mark since.

The result of the past day or two :)

I'm going to be honest with you: I live for this kind of weather. I thrive under sub-zero temperatures. Five years ago, the horror winter was my dream. I fondly called it the Dutch Horror Winter of Doom and eagerly awaited the first signs of it.
It would start in November, the first rumours of the upcoming horror winter. Suddenly the weather forecast would be full of pictures of past winters, the words 'snow and ice' made up 75% of the text the weatherman would say and it would always, always end with: 'This weather is going to be a long and cold one. It might become the horror winter of the decade.'
The weather forecast promised us at least a month of sub-zero temperatures. Not just any sub-zero temperatures: minus 6 degrees Celsius was the highest it would get. Snow in abundance: at least two feet. Schools would be closed, roads inaccessible. To me, that meant ice-skating until I'd fall over from exhaustion. Building snowmen twice my size. Beating my dad in a snowball fight. Sledding down the dykes. Do all that and more - for a month. That was what the horror winter promised me. On what world doesn't that sound great?

The horror winter didn't come that first year. But the next year I was promised a horror winter again. The first horror winter forecast came in the first week of November that year. The next year it came in October. Each year the first horror winter forecast came earlier, the scenerios became worse. It was like a contest between the weathermen from all the different tv channels: the first to present his horror winter forecast would win, bonus points were added for most creative and original scenerios. But my Dutch Horror Winter of Doom never came...

So the years passed by and 2015 ended without any mention of a horror winter of any sorts. 2016 started with snow in the north, then ice. A day later, the east was covered in snow too. Here in the Fisher family we're currently placing our bets: when will the first weatherman say the words 'horror winter' on national television? Tomorrow? The day after? I really don't know... After the extremely warm December we've had, it's already a surprise to wake up each morning and see that the water of the pond is completely frozen. Yet something tells me we'll hear extreme forecasts soon enough, just like all those other years.

Dutch Horror Winter of Doom, I've been waiting for you since 2010, so bring it on!
Stay Awesome!

When I wrote my post about being Dutch, I would never have suspected that hagelslag would catch everyone's attention. Making fun of Belgians? Yes, I expected comments on that remark. Also on our national ice-skating obsession. But hagelslag? The chocolate and fruit flavored sprinkles I eat on my bread every day caused a tsunami of questions. How do you eat hagelslag? What do you eat with hagelslag? What kind of bread do you use? Well, people of the internet, fear not, for I shall present you: Envy's Ultimate Chocolate Sprinkle Sandwich Tutorial!

Note: there's not supposed to be a hole in your bread like in mine

Now it's easy: put the hagelslag on the bread. Just as much as you want. If anyone says you're being unhealthy when eating a hagelsag sandwich, just point out that it's a Dutch habit. As far as I know, the Dutch are the tallest people in the world, hagelslag may just be the secret behind our tallness. The only reason to stop pouring hagelslag onto your bread is hagelslag directly falling off the bread.

Cover every inch of that bread!

Eat quickly, before the hagelslag escapes!

Tonight there'll be a knock on the door of many Dutch houses. Thousands of kids will run to the door to find a big bag full of presents, left there by Sinterklaas and his Zwarte Pieten.

For most people with little kids, Sinterklaas is an annual tradition, like Santa Claus in the States. I'm the youngest in my family and haven't celebrated Sinterklaas in over ten years. Still I look forward to this national holiday every year. When Sinterklaas comes to the country, he brings loads of food with him. Chocolate letters (I still get a chocolate E every year) and my personal favorite: kruidnoten!
Kruidnoten are basically pieces of speculaas. They are delicious. Literally translated their name would be 'spice nuts', which does not sounds delicous, but they really are!
According to the whole Sinterklaas saga, Zwarte Piet leaves kruidnoten in the shoes and nooks and crannies of the houses of children who have been nice all year. But when you're too old for Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet to come to your house, you'll have to buy them. Or you could bake them yourself!
It's easy. Very easy. Even I can do it, and I caused a black-out while baking cupcakes a year ago. You don't need much. And it's freaking delicious! Bring a little bit of the Dutch Sinterklaas tradition into your home this winter with this recipe!


You'll need:

• 250 grams of self raising flour
• 125 grams of brown sugar
• 100 grams of cream butter
• 50 milliliters of milk
• a pinch of salt
• 1.5 table spoons of speculaas spices

The last ingredient is quite essential for the recipe to work out, but speculaas spices are hard to get your hands on if you're not anywhere near the Dutch border. You can buy them online here or make them yourself with this recipe! Some say you can try using gingerbread spices, but it'll make your kruidnoten taste funny.

You're gonna:

• preheat the oven at 170 degrees Celsius.
• mix de butter until it's not one massive lump anymore. You've gotta mix it with the other ingredients, so make that stuff soft!
• use your hands! Add everything with the butter in a bowl and mix it until it's well mixed. Start out using the mixer (use those swirly things you use for making bread - my dictionary doesn't know the right word, neither does Google). After a while the mixer will have trouble kneading this dough, so continue by hand - which is much more fun anyway :)
• make tiny balls out of this dough. Put these on top of greaseproof paper on a baking try
• squish those balls! They have to be a bit like a dome before you put them in the oven, the shape they are in the pic below (though these have seen the heat of an oven already)
  
• put these things in the oven for 15 minutes, wait five more minutes for them to cool and...
• EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT

Baking is not one of my strongest points, but even I can't go wrong with kruidnoten. It's a beloved tradition to eat these things. I hope you'll like them too.

Stay Awesome!

I've never made an FAQ page on my blog, for the simple reason that very few people ask me questions. But if someone does ask me a question, it's always this one: 'Are you really Dutch?'
Yes, of course I am! Why would I lie about that? And what else do you expect me to be? I'm a full blood Dutchy and proud of it too!
Sometimes though, I wonder why people keep asking me this. Is it because they're jealous? Probably, because, let's face it, guys, the thing about being Dutch is... it's pretty freaking amazing!

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Being Dutch is all about cycling everywhere - without a helmet of course. Through wind, rain and snow the Dutch cycle to their homes, schools and work - without giving a single F-bomb about such a thing as traffic signs, cars, cats and other cyclists. Survival of the fittest! We cyclists are the kings of the roads!

And ice-skating, is that part of being Dutch? Let me tell you: it definitely is! Whether it's just watching a 10k race between Sven Kramer and Jorrit Bergsma or going ice-skating yourself, it's all part of being Dutch. -2 degrees outside? Get those skates ready, it's going to be a great winter!

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Being Dutch means eating hagelslag (chocolate sprinkles) on your bread. Who says sprinkles are only for birthday cakes?! Whoever said that, they were defenitely not Dutch!

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Being Dutch is also about not being Danish. And not being German either.
'I'm Dutch.'
'So, you're from Germany?'
'No man, I'm Dutch, not German!'
'Oh, from Denmark.'
Dear people of the rest of the world, buy a map and learn English!

Being Dutch means learning a ton of languages, so we can annoy at least half of the population of planet Earth our nonsense. French, German, English, you name it. And who learns Dutch? That's right, no one! Our language is way too exclusive for others to learn (and most of you can't make the spitting and gurgling noise we call a 'G')!

Only the Swedes can beat us at this game!

Big part of being Dutch is making fun of the Belgians. You don't want to know how many jokes we have about those 'dumb Belgians'. But at the end of the day, we all love the Belgians to bits (the Dutch speaking Belgians of course) and root for them in sports competitions (but only if the Dutch aren't competing)!

But mostly, being Dutch is about secretly loving our stereotype. Because we all eat loads of cheese. Even I have walked on wooden shoes when I was a kid. Mills are scattered around the countryside. And those beautiful tulips? I plant them in my garden every spring.

Yes, I am Dutch. I am lifethreatening as soon as I start cycling. I obsess over the weather forecast every winter. I watch every ice-skating match. I eat sprinkles at breakfast. I'm not from Germany or Denmark, I'm Dutch! I speak your language or will try to learn it, even though you'll never learn mine. I make bad jokes about Belgians and I secretly do the most stereotypical things. But you know what, I'm freaking proud of that. We're a crazy country with crazy habits - but that's what makes being Dutch so awesome. I am proud to be Dutch and the whole world may know that!

Stay Awesome!

As I told in the guest post for Teenage Blogger Central, the Dutch seniors pull pranks on the rest of the school on their very last day before Central Examinations start. This day is traditionally called 'Kolderdag'. Kolderdag was forbidden at my school because some idiots flooded the school hall. The school hall didn't like that and the floor boards decided to act like a sponge and eventually turned into a swamp. So no more Kolderdag pranks at Krimpenerwaard College...
Until a brave group of vwo-students did the unexpected: they asked permission for a prank and got it! So last Thursday night, my classmates and I made sure the school would never forget us and our pranks.

I was photobombed XD

'Harmless' pranks